


Sweet Kiss of a Blade

by shopfront



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Gen, Mirror Universe, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-07-25 16:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16201379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/pseuds/shopfront
Summary: Four moments that build a solid foundation; not of friendship, but of alliance.





	Sweet Kiss of a Blade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gwenfrankenstien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenfrankenstien/gifts).



> Brief, non-explicit and implied: references to violence, threats of harm (including to children but only by other children), and death of minor original characters.
> 
> This story was inspired by Mirror Amanda's Memory Beta page listing the Grayson's as an elite and well-connected arms-dealing family, but doesn't reference or require any additional canon knowledge beyond Discovery.
> 
> Thank you to G for the beta!

The first time Philippa saw Amanda was also her second time entering the Emperor's audience hall. The room was as cavernous and shadowy as she remembered. Her cousin, recently appointed the Emperor’s heir, stood by the Emperor's side and glared at her just as he had during her first visit. But Philippa held her chin high as she walked the length of the room, careful to put one foot in front of the other neither faster nor slower than the step before it had landed. It wouldn't do to show fear in a place such as this.

There were no smiles or fond looks when she reached the small cluster adults, only stern expressions and assessing stares. Her latest tutor hovered at Philippa's shoulder, fidgeting at the edge of her line of sight. Philippa could almost feel the intensity of the woman’s urge to push her forward so as to draw attention towards Philippa and away from herself.

But she’d learnt her own lessons from Philippa the hard way. She was the only tutor wise enough to last out her first month without being injured by her charge, and no hand appeared between Philippa’s shoulder blades. 

“Ah, here she is,” the Emperor finally said and turned away from the others. Everyone waited in patient silence as he settled himself upon his throne and waved an imperious hand towards her cousin.

“These are the Grayson’s,” Philippa’s cousin told her with a sneer, right on cue.

But Philippa wasn’t listening to him. Behind the two unknown adults she’d noticed another girl, smaller than she was and playing absentmindedly with the ends of her hair. It hung in two long plaits, weaved throughout with shimmering gold threads that were beginning to fray under the girl's fingertips. Philippa watched her for a moment, her cousin's voice fading to a dull drone in the background. After a moment the girl looked over and noticed Philippa's stare, and Philippa raised her eyebrows.

The girl tilted her head, watching her in return. It didn't take her long to notice that Philippa's gaze had returned once more to the unravelling bits of gold in her hair. She quickly dropped the offending plait and straightened her shoulders, and Philippa smiled.

“- and you’re to show her around the Palace,” Philippa's cousin finished a little louder, still sneering. He faltered when Philippa continued to ignore him.

“Come with me,” Philippa said to the girl with a toss of her head as she spun back towards the doors. She paused halfway through her turn and waited there a moment. Philippa always made a point to ensure her back was never bared to anyone except her tutor, who was already scurrying frantically to make sure she was behind them as the girl reached Philippa's side.

“My name is Amanda Grayson,” the girl said as they started back the way Philippa had entered, her gaze knowing. Her voice was low, too quiet for anyone else to hear and thereby quiet enough not to give away the extent of Philippa’s lack of attention. But it wasn’t timid, at least.

“Hello, Amanda,” Philippa replied absently as they approached the doorway. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw that the Emperor still watched them with a gleam in his eye while Amanda’s parents frowned and her cousin fumed in silence. Still gazing back towards the throne, she let her footsteps slow, just a beat, so that Amanda reached the door first.

Amanda's hesitation was obvious. Her eyes darted first to Philippa, then to Philippa's tutor - _their_ tutor now, mostly likely - and then to the people now behind them who were watching their every move. Then she swallowed and raised her head, in eerie imitation of Philippa's earlier entrance, and turned her back on them all to step through the doorway.

Philippa laughed; a bright, delighted sound that almost but didn’t quite cover her tutor’s gasp of surprise at the sound of her laughter.

Amanda was waiting for her on the other side of the door, and Philippa linked their arms together. Still ignoring their tutor - it was perhaps time for a new one, after all - Philippa began pointing to a series of corridors. She described where each branch and fork and turn lead in a whisper as they walked, bending her head near to Amanda's as if imparting the gravest of palace secrets as they began the walk together to Philippa’s quarters.

* 

“This is your fault, you know,” Amanda said as she finished tying the protective straps around her hands. Philippa just made a disagreeable noise as she hefted her weapon, checking the weight distribution and the position of the padding in her own arm wraps. “Well, it is. I told you we should have waited longer before stabbing that Andorian tutor.”

The weapon's weight felt good in her hand, and it had a delicious heft when she swung it. Light enough to move smoothly without being too light to be of any use, though the spikes arrayed along its length would do plenty of damage regardless of how fast she swung it. Not very surprising for a Klingon weapon. Each new experimental design stolen from Qo’noS by the Empire’s spies was proving more useful than the last, and often as equally damaging to a Klingon target as they were originally intended to be against a Terran opponent.

If it was up to Philippa, the Empire would have crushed the Klingons long ago. They were proving far too determined in their hatred of the Empire.

“If she couldn’t handle a demonstration of basic fighting technique with a dagger, she shouldn’t have been teaching at all,” was all Philippa said. But judging from the twinkle in Amanda’s eye, Philippa's wandering thoughts had been noticed.

“She might have had better technique if you hadn't 'accidentally' lopped off one of her antenna first,” Amanda said as she hefted her own weapon. Almost immediately she frowned and dropped it back onto the bench, all humour leaving her expression

“Too heavy for you?” Philippa asked quietly, her eyes on the flood of other students beginning to make their way into the training room.

“A little,” Amanda said, reaching gamely for the weapon again. But Philippa held out a hand, blocking her from picking it up even as she stepped forward so Amanda was at her back.

“Stay behind me and find something smaller from the wall,” Philippa said. There were no footsteps behind her, only the slight movement of displaced air as Amanda padded silently away. That was good, Philippa thought, as she cracked her neck audibly and stared down their soon to be opponents. She let the strange weight of the Klingon weapon dangle carelessly from her hand, as if it were but a feather instead of a fearsome hunk of metal, and slipped a dagger out from her sleeve to twirl in her other hand.

A few bloodthirsty grins dotted the growing crowd, but just as many faces gulped or went pale at the sight of her. Philippa straightened her shoulders, tossed her hair, and let them stare. Some of of them were on the cusp of adulthood like Philippa and Amanda were. They were old enough, and wise enough, to fear their blades.

Amanda was wrong though, it wasn’t all because of the Andorian. Her cousin wasn’t in the crowd yet, but he would be soon. To the victor would go the spoils. Or in this case, the Emperor’s favour.

Philippa had every intention of being the victor in this particular fight.

*

“I really shouldn’t,” Amanda said with a smirk even as she reached for the glass.

Philippa just draped herself over her cushions, reclining comfortably as she watched Amanda tip back the drink and swallow. Almost immediately, she began to cough. Laughing, Philippa leant over just far enough to nudge the bottle closer to Amanda.

“And why should you not?” Philippa asked, laughter in her voice. “In a few short days you’ll be married. To a Vulcan of all things. Best have your fun now, while you still can,” she finished bitterly as she settled back to sip at her own Denevian mead.

“Don’t start again,” Amanda said and pointed a stern finger at Philippa with one hand as she poured herself another drink with the other. She coughed again delicately after taking a sip, wrinkling her nose. “This is stronger than I expected.”

“I may have given it a little kick,” Philippa said, waving a hand absentmindedly. Her gaze was fixed on Amanda, however, and she saw how Amanda immediately went still. “Oh, relax. I wouldn’t poison you right before the big event. ”

Amanda licked her lips. “I’m sure,” she murmured, tone skeptical. But whiteness faded from her knuckled grip on her glass and she took another sip as Philippa smiled at her fondly.

“Besides, it would be a waste of good mead. That is the last bottle that was smuggled off Deneva after the recent Romulan invasion. I think knowing it cost so many lives just makes it all the sweeter though, don’t you?” Philippa asked as she gestured towards the discarded wrapper, stripped from the bottle before opening. It did indeed bear the rust and verdant marks of human and Romulan blood splatter. “I thought it appropriate. Soon the Romulans will be your sworn enemies, if only by marriage.”

Amanda chuckled and stepped across the short distance to drop down onto Philippa's chaise. She scattered Philippa’s carefully arranged cushions, and there was a clattering sound as one of them hit the floor and burst, revealing a knife hidden in the seam. “Oh I see. Not the barb of poison for me today, but the literal barb of your displeasure,” Amanda said as she reached down for the weapon, twirling it once between her finger before blithely offering it to Philippa.

Philippa’s lips were pursed tightly as she took the blade and tucked it under the edge of the drinks tray with a put upon sigh.

“I won’t be on Vulcan for long," Amanda said as she leant closer to press their shoulders together.

“Long is relative when one is alone in the Emperor’s hall,” Philippa replied with a roll of her eyes.

“Which is why I won’t be gone long,” Amanda repeated dryly. She reached up and ran the back of her fingers through the fall of Philippa’s hair, smiling when it made Philippa huff. “Sarek is Vulcan, as you keep reminding me. He understands there is no logic in marrying me for my connections and then taking me away from them.”

“And yet, you could have much better connections still if you married a human-”

“Philippa,” Amanda said, waiting a moment for Philippa to stop talking and return her gaze. “Life is short and brutal. I want this, and I truly believe I can best serve the Empire by Sarek’s side. _Your_ Empire.”

Sighing again in a put-upon fashion, Philippa reached for the mead once more. But she hesitated before picking it up, and diverted for a moment to clasp Amanda’s hand where it had come to rest again on Amanda's knee. “That is the only thing that saved you from a slow and painful death tonight.”

Amanda flipped her hand quickly under Philippa’s, holding it for a moment before Philippa pulled away. “Of course it is,” she said, her voice fond and disbelieving. “Which is why I have a wedding present for you.”

“A present for me, to celebrate _your_ wedding?” Philippa asked in amusement as she finally re-filled their glasses.

“Just a small trifle. Or I should say, a small child. Sarek came across her recently. Apparently she’s quite bright and you’re going to need an heir of your own soon, you know.”

“Am I?” Philippa asked innocently, but Amanda just laughed.

“Don’t try that game with me, I know you too well,” she said, smacking Philippa lightly on the shoulder. “But whether she’s bright or not doesn’t really matter, does it? She’ll be something to amuse you until I get back.”

“Amuse me, or distract my cousin?”

Amanda shrugged. “Does it matter much which?” she asked, sipping her mead.

“I suppose not,” Philippa said thoughtfully, reclining once more and drawing a finger along the rim of her glass. “Very well, send her to me when Sarek arrives.”

*

On the same day which they’d long intended to use to cut their way through the remnants of her dearly departed cousin’s guards and reach for the Emperor’s vulnerable throat, Amanda stopped by with a gift. It wasn’t all that long after Philippa had awoken, despite how lightly she had slept - a hand on her knives at all times, and Michael bedded down safely in the corner.

“Just something new from the family business,” Amanda said, smiling serenely as Philippa picked apart the wrapping and blinked sleep from her eyes.

“What is it?” she asked, frowning.

“A trinket that might come in handy. Here, press your thumb here so it can scan you,” Amanda said, guiding Philippa’s hand into the box. “Now I’ll also let it scan me and- There we go!”

Quickly she pressed something Philippa couldn’t see and the device shot up into the air with a faint beep. It spun around the room once at a frantic pace and then wobbled off it’s trajectory, slicing clean through Philippa’s favourite vase, before returning to rest harmlessly in Amanda’s palm.

“Oops,” Amanda said, grinning as she handed the device over. “It still needs a little fine tuning. You can manually control it if you want to, but it’s not very responsive yet so I’d suggest making sure you’ve scanned anyone in the room who you don’t want dead before you release it.”

“The scanning program prevents it from harming us?”

“Just a little failsafe to ensure it doesn’t accidentally take our heads off, instead,” Amanda replied as she settled herself down at Philippa’s breakfast table. They’d had a quick but pleasant meal together, leaving a portion aside for Michael when she awoke. Then they’d slipped extra weapons into their various holsters and the hiding spots in their armour, and slipped from the room.

As they strode up to the doors of the Emperor’s audience hall - a room that Philippa had now been in more times than she could count, and knew better than the back of her hand - a flash of blonde hair caught her eye down the corridor. A familiar face followed. One that Philippa had watched turn on her own comrades not even an hour before once the writing had been plain on the wall in the blood of Philippa’s enemies.

The woman smiled at them and Philippa shared a knowing glance with Amanda before she crooked a finger.

“What’s your name, Lieutenant?”

“Tilly, Empress. Sylvia Tilly,” the woman replied as she walked forward. She paused just out of a sword's reach and cocked a hip, lifting her chin as if to dare Philippa to raise a weapon against her.

“I’m not Empress yet, Sylvia Tilly,” Philippa said, her voice throaty with unvoiced laughter. But Sylvia’s smile just widened as she dipped her head into a bow.

“Not yet, your Imperial Majesty," she said. Philippa looked her over for a long moment, and then gestured briefly to the empty spot by her side. Smile widening, Sylvia fell in beside them, bracketing Philippa between herself and Amanda.

"Indeed," Philippa said as she closed the remaining few steps to the hall entrance - and relished the shock on the Emperor's face as she entered, her two lieutenants at her back.


End file.
